


natsukashii

by marchadelorca



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Again, Dead Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society), Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Heaven is a place on earth, POV Third Person, as usual, he's still a baby, i find this kind of dark despite the not-so-dark sensation, pov neil perry, you may take the meaning of this as you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29482965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchadelorca/pseuds/marchadelorca
Summary: Neil finds a green blanket. And it quickly reminds him of home and those times when he was happy.
Kudos: 2





	natsukashii

He recalled the shock of feeling the heavy warp of his new blanket, and the breath of the warm air that seemed to have devoured him in a few seconds.

That year, he would be alone. Literally alone. 

He had been informed of the absence of his friends early in the morning, being apprehended in a hallway that, he thought, was too small; for news as such and for his huge heart. 

He didn’t recognize the place. He didn’t recognize the rector who spoke to him. He only knew that this was his last year at the school and that he would have no classmates.

Neil had the immense curiosity to ask: why?

But the prick in the side of his body forced him to pay more attention, and acknowledged the untouchable gaze of the man that made him quickly swallow dry. A feeling of wanting to be obsequious had filled him. 

So, without wanting it too much, the only closest option he had to a rebellious expedition was the simplicity that came with knowing his bedroom.

The first surprise he got that first day was the unintelligible notion that the place tasted similar to him. He couldn't explain it, even if he wanted to. The color of the walls didn't look like any he'd seen before, nor did their damp patches form those silhouettes of the impatiens he loved so much -- those patches used to took him back to a time when the acidity of Bach flowers was the only thing that kept him grounded. 

And then, that shock.

The foundations of time had vanished from one moment to the next and he didn't know when (or how or why) he had managed to sit up in bed. The white sheets engulfed him calmly. They felt good, they looked like the one in his old room.

But it was still cold on that side of his figure that brought him back to sanity.

He got up, reached for a blanket to protect him from harm, and there he came upon the shiver: of all the few things he managed to get to know in so few moments, this was the one that most resembled an _exact_ copy of the one he had at home.

Before he put it on (with his eyes glistening and filled with the wilted green that he had left down there),the guy had to smell it; white soap, rain and his own perfume were once again combined.

So the blanket had to be the same, Neil concluded.   
At the thought, the ghost of a dimpled smile danced across his bruised features. 

And then he had to be grateful;  
it was his gift from the world of the living.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad without them.

**Author's Note:**

> _**natsukashii:** _
> 
> Although many dictionaries translate it, literally, as 'nostalgic' or 'nostalgia', the sense of the faint sadness of longing for the past that accompanies this expression is lost in such a definition. Many people use this word when talking about something that is no longer around or when visiting a place that reminds them of the old days.


End file.
